"Round two?" The man's voice was a low, pleasant rumble. A raw, lingering desire threaded through the hoarseness, a sound that could coax a soul from its body. Jiang Ciyou’s gaze swept across the floor. Her lace underwear lay tangled with his suit jacket, a torn dress was crumpled nearby, and a lone high heel peeked out from under the sofa. The scene screamed of their recent, frenzied passion. "No, I'm exhausted," Jiang Ciyou refused. His stamina was getting ridiculous. She had been on the verge of tears, begging him to stop just moments ago. Despite her words, she let her hand trail brazenly across the hard planes of his abdomen. He caught her wandering hand. His voice, still magnetic, was laced with frustration. "Don't tempt me. I can't promise I'll hold back." A smile played on Jiang Ciyou's lips. Her face was already stunning, but now, her dark eyes glittered like stars and her lips were a fiery red. A cascade of thick, black waves tumbled over her snow-white back, making her skin look like porcelain. The slow, lazy curl of her petal-red lips tugged at the tiny beauty mark at the corner of her eye. That single smile held all the allure of a modern-day siren, enough to bewitch any man. The man looked at the woman in his arms, as慵懒 as a cat, and felt the urge to pounce again, to devour her completely. "Don't be so stingy," she purred. "I'm going to miss this when I can't touch it anymore." The man’s playful demeanor vanished. His expression froze, his features hardening into a cold mask. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jiang Ciyou tossed the thin blanket aside and rose, dressing with swift efficiency. She retrieved a check from her handbag and walked back to him. “Darling, this is for five million dollars. Compensation. And of course, the villa is yours too.” She placed the check in his hand. But there was no joy in his eyes at the massive gift. "Jiang Ciyou, are you dumping me?" His voice dropped, low and dangerous, each word tight with barely suppressed fury. Her expression remained as breezy as a spring wind. She placated him by tilting his chin up for a kiss. “My husband’s back. I can’t exactly be… playing around anymore. It’s over.” The man’s face grew even darker. “Be good now,” she added, pecking his handsome lips once more. “And you can still call me if you ever run into trouble.” With that, Jiang Ciyou stood, grabbed her bag, and walked out of the room. She hadn’t taken two steps before the sound of something shattering echoed from the room behind her. Jiang Ciyou didn’t break her stride, just offered a wry, helpless smile to the empty hallway. She had kept him for three years. There was no real love, but perhaps a flicker of affection. Still, such an abrupt, clean break was bound to be hard for him to swallow. Leaving the villa, Jiang Ciyou drove straight to the airport. Her husband, Yan Feng, who had taken his mistress abroad for three years, was finally returning, buckling under pressure from his family. "Jiang Ciyou, we may have grown up together and dated for two years, but I don't have a single shred of feeling for you." "The only one I love is Xia Ling. If my grandfather hadn't forced me, I never would have married you." "I will never touch you. That's a promise I made to Xia Ling." “The only thing I can give you is the title of Mrs. Yan. If you get lonely, feel free to find a boyfriend. I won’t interfere. But in return, you stay out of my business with Xia Ling.” Those were the words Yan Feng had spoken to her on their wedding night. Three years had passed, but she remembered every single one. The Jiang and Yan families were incredibly close; three generations of patriarchs had been the best of friends. When Jiang Ciyou’s generation came along, the Jiangs had a daughter and the Yans a son, and the two were betrothed from birth. To nurture their bond, they were raised to play together, even spending their summer and winter breaks at each other's homes. They had always been close, and it felt only natural when they started dating in college. Until Xia Ling came between them. And in a way, she had been the one to push Yan Feng right into Xia Ling’s arms. Xia Ling was their high school classmate. Her family was poor and she had a timid personality, but her grades were excellent, earning her the only scholarship at their elite school. She was like a little white rabbit thrown into a lion's den, constantly bullied by the arrogant, privileged students. Jiang Ciyou had been her protector, defending her time and again, even getting into fights for her. They became the best of friends. Later, they even got into the same university. As her high school "bestie," Xia Ling naturally knew Yan Feng well. But back then, there wasn't the slightest spark between them. During the summer of their sophomore year, Jiang Ciyou and Yan Feng signed up for a summer camp organized by the university. Just before they were set to leave, Jiang Ciyou sprained her ankle and gave her spot to Xia Ling. Yan Feng didn’t want to go if she wasn’t, but Jiang Ciyou, afraid that Xia Ling would be bullied by the others, insisted he go along to look after her. And somewhere in all that "looking out for her," they had gotten together. That same summer, Jiang Ciyou faced the greatest crisis of her life. Jiang Xiaoxiao had returned. At the darkest moment of her life, Yan Feng suddenly broke up with her, declaring he wanted to be with Xia Ling. The combined blows were too much to bear. She slit her wrists. She didn’t succeed in dying, but the attempt set off a chain reaction. Yan Feng’s parents were heartbroken; after all, they had watched her grow up, thinking of her as their future daughter-in-law. Old Mr. Yan went even further, threatening Yan Feng with the family shares to force him into the marriage. But less than two months later, he applied for an exchange program at Yale and left for the United States. With Xia Ling, of course. Three whole years… The car soon pulled up outside the airport, and Jiang Ciyou’s thoughts snapped back to the present. The old man had asked her to pick up Yan Feng today. Jiang Ciyou glanced at her watch. Perfect timing. She looked up and, sure enough, saw Yan Feng walking out of the terminal, pushing a luggage cart. He wore a crisp white shirt and black trousers. His handsome face was refined, his bearing exceptional. Every gesture radiated the innate grace and nobility of a man born to wealth. But the moment his gentle eyes landed on Jiang Ciyou, his face hardened. Jiang Ciyou smiled, opened the car door, got out, and walked toward him. “Husband. Long time no see. You’re looking well.” Jiang Ciyou’s smile was bright and dazzling. As a former broadcaster, her voice was already captivating, but she laced it with a deliberately sweet, almost singsong quality. It was a devastatingly charming combination. Even passersby couldn't help but glance her way, secretly envying the woman's husband. Yan Feng’s frown only deepened as he looked at her. Today, Jiang Ciyou was beautiful, as if she had dressed up specially to see him. She looked different from three years ago. Back then, she wore no makeup, exuding a pure and lovely air. Now, her makeup was flawless, her hair styled in glamorous waves, her clothes all designer labels. She carried an air of lazy, aristocratic poise. “Don’t call me husband,” Yan Feng’s voice was cold. He glanced at the woman in the white dress beside him. Jiang Ciyou had seen her before she’d even gotten out of the car. Xia Ling had returned with him. Xia Ling was in a loose, white cotton dress. She wore no makeup, but her delicate, doll-like face and naturally shy, innocent eyes were still arresting. One of her hands was looped through Yan Feng’s arm; the other rested unconsciously on her own gently swelling abdomen. The gesture was unmistakable. Jiang Ciyou smiled. “Xia Ling, are you pregnant?”